


Gloomy Sundae

by likethepaint (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-09
Updated: 2007-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/likethepaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  The first time Joe and Patrick have their first date, it's all Pete's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gloomy Sundae

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the awesome [](http://icedmaple.livejournal.com/profile)[**icedmaple**](http://icedmaple.livejournal.com/) who patiently beta'd this and reassured me the whole way through, and then came up with the title.

Really, this is all Pete’s fault, because Pete was the one who dared him, and you can’t back down on a dare, it’s in some unwritten law, Joe is sure of it. Joe’s actually quite surprised it’s so easy to pin this one on Pete; normally when something happens you have to trace it back to Pete through a whole series of people and the complex links between them. Joe’s gotten pretty good at understanding Pete’s nature though, in the few years he’s come to know him, and he’s pretty clear on the fact that if anything bad happens, even if you can’t link it back to Pete in any way shape or form, it is still almost certainly Pete’s fault, and even if it isn’t, best bet is to blame Pete.

But, anyway, it’s all Pete’s fault that he is sat in some cheep diner, waiting for Pete to turn up with his so called date. And the thing is – the worst thing about this whole dare is that of all the people Pete could choose to humiliate him with, he chose Patrick, almost as if he already _knew_ how Joe felt about the boy.

Joe isn’t even exactly sure Pete doesn’t know how he feels about Patrick, because even though he thought he’d been doing a pretty good job at keeping his feelings hidden, Pete is like the master of knowing everything you want to keep secret. It’s not like Pete can blame him Patrick is just too – too _Patrick_ for Joe to not crush on him a little bit.

Joe knows one of the main reasons Patrick has all his issues is because no one has ever, ever expressed an interest to him before, and he’s never even had a girlfriend. Personally, Joe thinks it’s their loss, because if they don’t want to sit around and see Patrick get all intense when he’s writing music, or watch how his whole face scrunches up slightly when he’s struggling to play particularly tricky riff so he can try and beat Joe, then they’re idiots.

Patrick, on the other hand, appears hell bent on believing he’s the one losing out. Some days Joe gets _this close_ to calling his bullshit, but ever since Patrick threatened to quit _and_ kill Pete over an argument about a hat, he can’t; Andy’s warned them all to just leave Patrick be when he has one of his so-called 'sulky-girly-moments'. Andy hadn’t been in the band long, but Joe had been around him long enough to know better than to argue

He’s not even sure how Pete has convinced Patrick to go along with this, because it’s not really the kind of thing Patrick agrees to do everyday but Joe hopes – Joe hopes to God it’s not what it looks like, which is that Pete has just blindfolded Patrick and shoved him in the vague direction of the diner doors, following behind lazily, correcting Patrick’s path every so often.

Joe manages to hit his knee on the table leg and trip over a stray chair in his rush to open the door for Patrick, which is not remotely cool or smooth or anything else he’d like to appear to be. He feels his face grow hot as he takes Patrick’s arm, trying to tell himself that it’s not a date and the only reason he’s opening the door for Patrick and leading him to his seat is because the boy is still blindfolded. Joe tells himself this at least five times as he walks Patrick to their table; he believes it even less by the time they’re sat down.

Pete settles himself at a table nearby, clearly wanting a decent view of the disaster about to unfold. Once Patrick is sure he’s safely sat down he pulls off the blindfold and winces and as much as Joe hates himself for it, he hopes it’s because Patrick lost a few strands of hair in the knot, rather than because he’s just spotted his date. He tries to catch Patrick’s eyes, so he can gauge his reaction, but Patrick ducks his head, and becomes interested in a dried on ketchup stain on the table.

“Dude, if you want to, like, bolt, I won’t hate you or anything,” Joe says cautiously, not really sure how Patrick is taking it. Patrick keeps his eyes guarded under the brim of his hat, not giving Joe anything.

Patrick shakes his head, “No, dude, it’s cool,” but even as he says it he shakily picks up the menu, and continues to nervously avoid looking at Joe, giving every impression that he is not okay. Joe smiles in what he hopes is a highly reassuring way, and ducks under the table to grabhis menu from where it appears to have gotten knocked to the floor, which, as Joe discovers very quickly, is highly sticky. When he slides back into his seat, grabbing a napkin to wipe god knows what off of his fingers, Patrick is smiling back at him, looking a lot more confident, and Pete seem to have disappeared somewhere.

“Bathroom,” Patrick smiles, tilting his head towards the spot where Pete was sitting, “enjoy the peace, he seems to think I’m not leaving unless I’m leaving to get laid, or something.” He laughs, and then ducks his head, so that Joe can’t see his face to tell whether he’s serious or not. Joe smiles nervously, trying not to think about Patrick getting laid any more than is absolutely necessary.

Joe looks around the diner while Patrick starts chattering about the song he’d been working on before Pete had kidnapped him. He’s still listening, but just taking in the room at the same time, he kind of regrets it; the whole place is a complete dump. The ceiling is hidden beneath what he thinks might be a layer of mould, or something similar. The floor is not only sticky under the tables but all the way around the dinner in varying degrees, so that the waitress's shoes make a horribly audible sticking sound as she hurries over to their table.

  


Joe glances down at his menu, quickly trying to decide what he wants to eat. He ends up ordering a burger and chips with a coke even though he’s fairly sure the chips will come back with more grease than Pete’s hair and the burger will probably be black. Patrick is not so quick to decide, despite the fact that he was looking at his menu long before Joe. The waitress, Sandy if he name tag is correct, taps her foot with no particular rhythm while she waits. She looks too old for waitressing, Joe thinks; she must be at least 50, with her hair practically all grey and scraped tightly behind her head, hair net firmly over the top. Joe thanks God for small mercies

Patrick settles for a fried egg and chips. “Well, if Pete’s paying I might as well treat myself,” he says, smiling at Joe. Joe glances over at Pete’s table, but looks away after Pete winks at him crudely.

“If he’s paying I should have, like, chosen something more expensive,” he mutters, only half serious and Patrick laughs softly. It’s one of those rare occasions when he doesn’t duck his head at the same time and Joe can see the pink tint in his checks and the way the laughter reaches his eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

Joe remembers the first time he’d seen Patrick laugh like that, all exposed and so fucking genuine it kind of hurt. He’d been surprised, to be honest, at how sincere Patrick was, like he actually _enjoyed_ the joke Joe had just cracked. Back then they’d only just met Patrick and he was always so guarded, especially with his eyes, never giving them anything.

It always catches Joe off guard to see so much of Patrick, even now. Which is odd because now Patrick will spend hours curled up practically on top of Joe in the van while they drive to the next show. And Joe’s seen a lot more of Patrick than just his eyes. Mostly it’s just accidental glimpses from when he’s looked over and Patrick hasn’t quite finished changing. Nevertheless Joe can’t get the images from the back of his eyelids for weeks after.

Patrick has resumed their conversation about the new material. Currently he’s telling Joe about a new favourite of his, and how much better than the old stuff it is. Joe nods in agreement because Patrick is awesome at music, but their stuff still kinda sucks. Joe can’t imagine Patrick finding it that hard to improve on what they’ve already got.

“I can’t wait to, like, hear this shit, dude. You gonna bring it to practice?”

Patrick shrugs, like he’s not sure of it, which Joe’s not buying for a second; if there’s one thing Patrick’s really sure of it’s music.

“I don’t know dude, maybe if Pete’ll leave me alone long enough to finish it.” He shoots a pointed look at Pete before turning back to Joe, his features softening. “I _am_ glad I came though, so don’t give me any crap about leaving.”

Joe’s reply of, “but if you want to go–” is cut off pretty quickly by Patrick’s fairly loud “shut the fuck up, dude.”Patrick blushes as the handful of other diners all turn around to stare at them, Joe smiles as Patrick ducks behind his hat once again, re-examining the crusty ketchup stain.

Patrick’s hair is still fairly short but Joe can see the ends of it spilling out from under his cap. Joe’s very glad Patrick decided to grow his hair out because, like Patrick’s eyes, you can never pin a colour down for it. In the poor lighting of the diner, against the faded red walls it looks coppery and soft. Joe knows that’s not just the lighting though, from the times he’s spent curled up in the van with Patrick, stroking the softness of his hair when he’s sure everyone else is asleep so he won’t get caught.

Sandy   
walks back over, giving them a slightly toothless smile, like she’d had a few too many fights when she was younger and never bothered with getting a false set. She sets the food down gently on their table, calling Patrick a “doll” when he thanks her politely. Joe mumbles his thanks as well, too busy staring at the slight blush on Patrick’s cheeks to fully pay attention.Sandy smiles again, wistfully, and ruffles his hair before quickly withdrawing her hand, like she’d forgotten herself for a moment. She kind of reminds Joe of his grandmother only less Jewish; he makes a mental note to get Pete to tip well.

The food is – The food is surprisingly good given the surroundings, Patrick lets out a slight moan as he takes the first bite of his egg, before looking up at Joe, surprised like he hadn’t realized he’d done it. Joe blushes uncontrollably, trying to cover it up by stealing a couple of fries from Patrick’s plate.

“Hey, fuck off, man, you’ve got your own.” Patrick swats at his hands, laughing slightly and pinching one of Joe’s chips back once he’s sure his plate is safe.

“Yours taste better,” Joe mumbles around a mouthful of burger and fries; Patrick laughs again.

“Dude, swallow.” Joe does, and ends up choking embarrassingly; leaving Patrick to lean over the table and rub at his back while he wheezes and coughs.He can honestly say it’s the worst thing that has ever happened to him in front of a crush, even including the time he _accidentally_ lifted that chicks skirt up with his guitar case. Which no one will ever, ever know about, ever.

After Joe’s recovered, both from the choking and the embarrassment, they end up in all out war, using chips and bottles of ketchup as weaponry.Sandy appears to be watching them from her perch at the bar, near the kitchen. It’s a slow day and there aren't many people but Patrick and Joe in the diner. Pete having still not returned from the bathroom, which is not something Joe wants to think about ever, especially not while eating the chips Patrick has just forced into his mouth.

Pete reappears around the point where they are beginning to call a truce; their chips are practically all gone, mostly into mouths but some are scattered across the floor around them too. Joe’s burger has been left on his plate but Patrick’s’ egg is long gone.

“Quick Froboy, finish your burger so I can spend all Pete’s money on dessert.” Patrick is smiling widely, wider than Joe has ever seen him smile before. Joe likes the look on him, open and happy; his chest tightens when he realizes Patrick is smiling because of him, because of their stupid chip war.

He finishes off his burger in record time, managing miraculously not to choke or give himself indigestion at the same time; he’s quite proud of himself. Patrick is deep in thought when Joe pushes his plate away and settles back into his chair. He taps out a beat on his knee, scrunching up his face as he concentrates on the music only he can hear, and Joe waits patiently and tries not to watch Patrick’s face too much. He knows Patrick would hate it, if he knew, which is why he mostly tries to keep his Patrick-watching at a minimum.

There’s something so intimate about the way Patrick looks when he’s writing music, which keeps Joe’s eyes almost glued to him. Joe isn’t sure if it’s how unguarded Patrick is when he’s distracted by the song, or how intense he looks or what, but he knows he can’t get enough of it. Even if he does end up feeling horribly guilty later, like he’s spoiling Patrick’s supposed innocence.

Patrick stops drumming and twitches slightly, blinking slowly at Joe, “Finished already?” Joe nods, completely unfazed, he’s watched Patrick out of the corner of his eye for months; he knows all of Patrick’s odd habits. He knows Patrick’s realized Joe was watching him while he was zoned out and is just trying to brush it off as no big deal. Joe also knows it kind of was, to Patrick at least.

Patrick hands Joe a dessert menu, and for some strange reason it looks like he makes their fingers brush deliberately. Joe shakes his head as he takes the menu and glances at the various dishes. Patrick barely even glances at the menu before he sets it down on the table neatly and Joe’s pretty sure it means Patrick’s going to get the fruit salad.

When Joe sets his own menu down, having decided what to have, Patrick calls the waitress over with a polite, “Miss?” making her blush and hurry over to them. Though, it’s not like she had anything better to do than serve them, what with very few other customers requiring her attention.

“Fruit salad, please. And, um, no ice cream?” Patrick murmurs to her, hardly loud enough to be heard. Joe grimaces slightly but asks for the same, watching as Patrick frowns back at him. “You don’t need to have just fruit, dude,” he hisses across the table onceSandy has taken their plates and gone to get their desert.

“Neither do you,” Joe says, voice calm and insistent. Patrick scowls, folding his arms across his chest defensively and glaring at the wall above Joe’s head. Joe knows Patrick’s just trying to avoid an argument, and he keeps his mouth shut; he knows not to push Patrick any further, at least not tonight.

Patrick is still in full blown defence mode, ready to snap at Joe for any little thing when their fruit salads arrive, Joe isn’t even all that keen on half the fruit in it, but he knows how horrid Patrick would feel if he’d ordered a cake or something. Joe just couldn’t do that to him.

Patrick unfolds his arms slowly and begins to eat his own dessert, Joe can see him leaving certain fruits, and he’s not sure if that’s because Patrick dislikes those fruits or because Patrick is just saving them for last.

When the last of their dessert is done, they glance over at Pete, waiting to see if he really is going to pay or not. Pete is currently eating a large ice cream sundae, but he puts down his spoon and comes over to them when he spots them looking.

“Have some dessert,” he says; “the ice cream is lovely,” Patrick scowls at him too. “C’mon Patty Cakes, live a little. Seriously, guys, have seconds or something, it’s on me, what are you worried about?” Pete wanders back to his own table and Patrick mutters something under his breath, which Joe doesn’t hear, and doesn’t need to hear either.

He nudges Patrick’s foot under the table, earning himself a weak smile. “Go on, we’ll order ice cream sundaes and if you still feel bad tomorrow I’ll take you out for salad.” Patrick smiles again, a little bit brighter, clearly warming to the idea of a sundae.

It takes Joe three attempts to getSandy back to their table; clearly, he lacks the skill Patrick has at charming old waitresses. Joe orders them both two of the biggest sundaes with all the toppings, ignoring Patrick’s protests.

When the sundaes arrive they really are huge, Joe’s not even sure he’s going to manage to finish his himself. Let alone whether Patrick will opt to finish his own. Joe tucks into his ice cream, nudging Patrick’s leg again, encouraging him.

“It’s good, dude,” he manages around a particularly large mouthful. Patrick laughs taking a small spoonful; he makes a small sound of pleasure as he swallows it. Then looks at Joe, blinking almost – expectantly? Joe isn’t really sure what Patrick’s expecting.

“Sorry, dude, it’s just been a while since I had any – y’know.”It sounds strangely like the excuses Patrick gives his mom when they arrive home late again, because Pete had picked up another fifteen year old chick. ‘No, mom, you know how traffic is leaving gigs; we were in the van on the way home the whole time.’ Joe isn’t really sure why Patrick would be using his “perfect son” voice on him, either, it’s confusing.

Joe’s fairly sure that it’s been a while since Patrick’s had ice cream if his reaction is anything to go by. He keeps making small sounds – notes? – in the back of his throat as he eats, and really, Joe’s not sure how long he can last the torment.

When their second desserts have disappeared, andSandy has removed the glasses and bowls from their table, Joe stands up, heading over to Pete.

“We’re kind of like done now dude, if you wanna, take us home.”

Pete shakes his head, and Joe sighs, they’re both exhausted and Patrick had promised his mom he’d be home at least half an hour ago. Joe really doesn’t want her to ground Patrick or ban him from the tour or something crazy; she’s pretty cool about most things, but when Patrick says he’ll be home she expects him home. “Dude, Patrick has to get home, you can, like, play your little matchmaker game another day.”

Pete sighs dramatically, but stands up anyway, heading over to the till station in order collect the bill and pay quickly. Joe knows he’ll bitch at them the entire way home, but he counts it as a win anyway.

Pete commandeered the van to get them here and back, which is nice because it means Patrick and Joe can climb into the back and curl up on the seats with the relative ease that comes from touring in there. They’re so used to it now; and after a month or so of not touring, Joe finds it’s weirdly reminiscent of collapsing onto your own bed, after a long tour. Patrick ends up piled on top of Joe, snuggling closer until he’s comfortable. If Joe closes his eyes, and ignores the fact that Andy’s steady breathing and constant soft music are missing, he can believe they're on tour, waiting for the world to fall at their feet.

The drive to Patrick’s house is uneventful at best; Patrick occasionally makes the same small noises in his throat as he did at the ice cream and Joe’s pretty sure he’s asleep and dreaming of a hot chick, which should honestly be weirder than it is. As it stands, Joe’s perfectly content to let Patrick slump against him and sleep, regardless of who’s in his dreams.

"You're gonna walk him to his door, right Trohman, proper gentleman and all?" Pete laughs, breaking Joe out of his thoughts. He sighs, knowing Pete's gonna make him walk Patrick up his driveway now, no matter what. He refuses to answer Pete, though, tells himself it's because he won't lower himself, but mostly it's just so he doesn't wake Patrick leaning forward to thump Pete.

Even in the poor lighting of the residential streets, where there aren't that many streetlights and a good few of them don't even work, Joe recognises when they get close to Patrick's house. He leaves Patrick sleeping until they're at the very top of his street, but when he tries Patrick just murmurs and snuggles closer. It’s endearing and all but Joe kinda just wants to get home and away from Pete for a little bit.

“Patrick, hey, Patrick, wake up, we're here,” Joe whispers at the same time a Pete yells, “Lunchbox, home time!” Patrick shifts closer to Joe for a second before pulling away and flipping Pete off, bleary eyed and glasses askew. They both tumble out of the van; Joe mumbling something about it being dark and Patrick having shitty night vision, as an explanation.

“There’s a street light right there,” Patrick points out, waving one hand in the general direction of the nearest streetlight.

Joe shrugs, hoping it's dark enough to cover his blush. “Better safe than sorry, Stump.” Patrick says something under his breath, soft enough so that Joe can't hear, but allows Joe to walk him to his front door anyway. The lights are on inside, which means Patrick's mom has stayed up to see that Patrick got home in one piece. They stand on the doorstep for a few seconds, before Patrick works up the courage to speak

“So, I, um.” Patrick pauses, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Oh, man, me too!” Joe gushes slightly, too loud and too fast. He blushes, but Patrick just laughs softly and leans in, like he's expecting a hug. Joe starts to lean in the rest of the way, but stops dead when he feels a pair of soft lips pressing against his own. Patrick is stood on tip toes in order to reach to kiss him, and he's fairly sure he should kiss back but everything’s gone horribly slow and he can't quite connect the processes

Patrick pulls away after a second, looking furious with himself and then he's inside the house and slamming the door shut; Joe is shocked, but also quite surprised Patrick managed to unlock the door so quickly with fumbling, nervous hands. He blinks at the door for a long time, wondering if he can get away with ringing the bell; Patrick's mom likes him though, so he should be okay.

He rings the bell, glancing back at the van where Pete is sat in the driver's seat, tapping his hands on the wheel and nodding his head, apparently oblivious. Joe wonders if Pete maybe put Patrick up to this; kissing guys isn’t exactly the sort of thing Patrick does. Then again neither is doing what Pete asks him to – or at least not anymore. Patrick had been putty in Pete’s hand the first week or so. That was before he realized Pete was just the dude who always owed you money and pissed on your laundry though, they’d all been there

Patrick doesn’t came out, but Joe keeps ringing the bell until Patrick’s mom comes out and shoos him away, saying Patrick is far too tired for visitors, but he’ll call Joe tomorrow. Joe's pretty sure Patrick won't call, but he figures it's only a few days until they next have practice, so they'll have to see each other sooner or later. He thanks Patrick's mom and returns to the van, defeated, and thankfully Pete has the sense not to say anything about it. The only thing he says to Joe the entire ride back to Joe's house is a quick goodbye before he drives off, leaving Joe on the sidewalk.

The lights are off in Joe’s house, which means his mom has apparently given up on him coming home at any decent time and gone to bed. She probably thinks he crashed at a friend’s house and forgot to call again. He’s glad; he loves his mom and all but he can’t deal with questions tonight. He just wants to get his head together and go to bed, he’s still half in shock over Patrick hissing him, and half mentally kicking his ass for not kissing back.

When he finally feels up to entering the house, or at least when he gets fed up of standing outside, it’s quiet as he expected. His parents have clearly gone to bed; he can hear the soft snores of his dad as he passes their room. Thankfully, they’re quiet enough that by the time he’s in his room he can’t hear a thing again.

He changes for bed quickly, stripping down to his boxers and leaving his clothes lying in a pile on the floor. Ordinarily, he might dump his t shirt in the laundry basket but right now he can’t bring himself to care. He slides into bed, lying flat on his back under the covers with the scene at Patrick’s house playing over and over in his mind.

His mind just won’t shut off; he keeps thinking about Patrick and whether or not Patrick likes him back. He wonders if Patrick will let him down gently at practice, or if he’ll wait until it’s just the two of him. He can imagine how Patrick will do it, with a gentle hand on the top of his arm, all soft words and careful smiles.

It’s hours before he falls into an uneasy sleep. Patrick slips into his dreams as he always does, but they’re not anything like his usual dreams; Patrick keeps dumping him over and over again. The only upside is he doesn’t have to change his sheets when he wakes up like he usually does.

Mostly Joe spends the next day in bed, going over everything he did wrong and wondering why. In the end he settles on the conclusion that not kissing Patrick was the right thing, because Patrick can’t possibly like him back, and therefore would be more freaked out had Joe done anything. It settles heavily in his stomach and remains there. His mom tries to get him to eat, but the thought of food just makes his stomach churn, so he just stays in his room and hopes Patrick will call. He doesn’t.

By the time practice rolls around, Joe has firmly decided that Patrick is going to say it was a Joke. For some reason, he gets dressed up, not suit and tie dressed up, just black jeans and a clean t-shirt for a change, something vaguely ironed. He even washes and brushes his hair, which is not something he bothers with all that often. Unless their on tour, that is, when he washes it at almost every opportunity, because Patrick seems to like petting his hair quite a bit.  

Patrick is already at their designated practice space in Pete’s basement, when Joe arrives. Which means Joe doesn’t have to sit around and wait for him to turn up, but also makes Joe wish he’d taken a moment to work out what he was going to say before he’d come in. Pete is crashing around above them, doing god knows what, and Patrick is smiling to himself. When he sees Joe, he blushes and ducks his head, focusing intently on his guitar. He keeps his head bowed, fingers moving carefully over the strings until Andy appears, and they get Pete to stay in the room long enough to play.

They manage to play about five songs before Pete wanders off, which Joe thinks is a kind of record practice wise, because Pete prefers to play in two song intervals. Joe seizes his chance to talk to Patrick when Andy heads off after Pete to try and get him back to practice. Andy prefers to play all the songs and then hang out; Joe doesn’t blame him, it’s mostly how he prefers to do it as well. Joe actually doesn’t know how Patrick likes to do it, mainly because Patrick remains pretty much neutral, never walking out mid-song, but also never complaining vocally when Pete does.

“So, dude, can we, like, talk or something?” Joe isn’t really sure how to approach the subject; Patrick might just want to never talk about it, which would kinda suck if they have to carry on like this. Joe would miss Patrick in the van at night for one. Patrick shifts nervously, setting his guitar down and turning slowly to Joe.

“What about?” He says carefully, like he doesn’t have a clue what Joe means. Joe thinks it’s pretty lame and if he regrets it he should just come out and say it.

“You know what I mean, dude. You kissed me,” he hisses, Patrick blushes again, ducking his head shyly, but then he lifts his head up and looks Joe in the eyes, more certain than Joe’s ever seen him. It’s almost like he’s rehearsed his speech a million times and is just determined to say it now. This is it, Joe thinks, he’s gonna tell me it was a joke.

“Look, dude, I know I freaked you out, but it won’t happen again. I mean, I like you and all, but I can back off, stop getting so close all the time, like in the van and stuff.” Patrick pauses, taking a deep breath and Joe just blinks at him. “Look, Joe, I don’t want us to be weird, I like having you as a friend. And god, this is all Pete’s fault, he kept saying you liked me and at first I was like ‘yeah right’ but then you leaned in and I let myself think for a second you maybe liked me back. But it’s cool, I get that you don’t like me that way and that’s–”

“I _like_ you, dude,” Joe whispers, and Patrick steps back, shocked.

“Um, that’s – That’s very cool,” Patrick says slowly, “But I kinda meant as more than a friend.” Joe stares at him for a second.

“So did I, dude.” Patrick blinks for a moment before he starts yelling.

“Then why didn’t you kiss me?!” He shouts, alerting Andy, Pete and anyone else who might be in earshot that Joe did not kiss Patrick.

“I didn’t know you liked me,” Joe retaliates, not that much quieter than Patrick, who flushes yet again.

“And the fact I kissed you wasn't a clue?!” Patrick yells, looking at Joe like he’s stupid or something. “   
I’ve liked you forever,” he admits softly,    
an awkward moment later,   
“since just after ‘Borders,’ and I kept trying to let you know sorta, like getting real close, testing the water. And then Pete said he had a date for me, someone who _really_ liked me. I thought he was just pissing around, but then you kept staring at me and stuff, and I thought maybe–” Patrick pauses, gauging Joe’s reaction, before continuing. “I thought maybe you liked me back, so I did all that really stupid shit at the diner to see what you’d do.” He looks at Joe expectantly, and Joe gets really nervous, because he hasn’t even finished processing Patrick’s speech, let alone thought up a suitable answer.

“What stupid stuff, dude?” It’s a bad answer, a very bad answer, he knows, but it’s Patrick, so he figures he has _some_ leeway on fucking up. Patrick blushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, y’know mostly just the stuff with the moaning and the ice cream, but also the stuff in the van, and the not having ice cream so you might pay more attention.” Joe gapes a little, not sure how to reply to that one. “Which,” Patrick continues, “I know, was a really stupid idea.”

“You did all that just so I’d say I liked you?” Joe asks, surprised but kind of endeared at the same time. He shifts himself a little closer to Patrick, realizing that perhaps they’ll be dating now, and he’ll be able to stand this close all the time. He stops his victory dance just in time.

“Well, yeah, I really wanted you to say you liked me.” Patrick seems to pull away slightly, and Joe morns the loss of body heat.

“I like you,” Joe admits again, enjoying the fact that he can just say it whenever, and also wanting Patrick back as close as possible.

“Yeah, I got that, genius,” Patrick laughs, causing Joe to laugh back. Patrick starts to look a little shy again though, and Joe puts a gentle hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. “Can I, like. Would it be okay if I asked you out? Because like, we could have a proper first date, and go somewhere real nice,” He pauses when they hear a small crash above them, stepping closer to Joe. “Without Pete,” he adds, as an afterthought when they hear a particularly violent crash.

Joe’s heart is in his throat when he whispers as loudly as he can manage, “Dude, that’d be more than okay.” Patrick grins and wraps Joe up in a bear hug, and Joe does actually manage to return it this time, secretly he’s quite proud of himself. When Patrick pulls away he kisses the very corner of Joe’s mouth, shyly. Joe turns his head to kiss Patrick, softly. They keep the kisses soft and short, for the time being; not sure how long Pete or Andy will be.

When Pete finally bounces back down to the basement, Andy at his heels, Patrick’s lips are redder than usual, and Joe spends the rest of the practice staring at them; it doesn’t aid his playing at all. They don’t play many songs before Pete wanders off again, claiming he has a hot chick to pick up. Andy doesn’t even bother to go after him, just calls it quits for the night, offering Joe and Patrick a ride home.

Joe’s hardly been home ten minutes before Patrick calls, and they spend so long talking about everyday things Joe’s almost kinda forgotten about Patrick being his boyfriend, until Patrick suggests Friday night for their date.   
  
(Originally posted August 1st 2007)


End file.
